


Her Dirty Little Secret

by DeliciousGollum



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: i don't know what to say about this one, it's dark, like black hole dark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-09
Updated: 2017-12-09
Packaged: 2019-02-12 15:37:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12962589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeliciousGollum/pseuds/DeliciousGollum
Summary: "It's one thing to think you're worthless, and quite another for somebody else to tell you that you are." - Jennifer Echols : Dirty Little Secret





	Her Dirty Little Secret

She is  _still here_.

That little Mudblood  **slut**.

She is still in Hogwarts. " _Learning."_ (Stealing magic.) He couldn't wait until they finally took control of Hogwarts. The little bitch would finally disappear. (And all of her Mudblood friends too.)

She is  _still here._ Talking to Draco. (If only Dumbledore could shut up for  _one second_  – he could make her run, scare her away because his pathetic son couldn't do it himself. What a  **disgrace**.)

The Mudblood is clutching some books – magical books – to her chest and Lucius shudders when he thinks about the way her filthy skin is touching them.  _Disgusting._

Dumbledore is still talking (why are they even  _talking_  right now? What is the  _point_  of this meeting? Lucius doesn't even fucking remember) and Lucius' grip on his cane tightens. The old fool is such a pain in the ass. Always getting in his way in the Council. Making him throw more money away so he can do whatever he wants.

The Mudblood is  _still_ talking to Draco and Lucius' anger is mounting, a fiery fire inside of him.  _How dare she!?_ How dare she think she deserves to talk to him!? How dare she think she even deserves to breathe the same air as him!?  _Filthy little whore._ (His fingers itch to take out his wand and show her her place.)

Dumbledore finally stops talking, Lucius takes a breath, keeps his temper in check, answers, deflects, mocks, taunts and the old wizard finally  _finally_ leaves, an annoying twinkle in his eyes (Lucius just wants to rip them out and crush them with his bare  **hands** ).

He turns aroun-

_THUNK!_

(The sound of a hand making contact with something.)

The books fall down and his son is laughing, turning to face him, to seek his approval, but Lucius' eyes focus on red lines. On black sleeves pulled up too high, just high enough to  _see_ and he can feel his lips quirking into a sneer.

_Pathetic._ (He always knew she was, but to have the proof in front of his eyes, so blatant, so  _exposed_ …)

His eyes follow her movement when she pulls them back down shakily, her eyes wide and afraid and he almost wants to  _smile_ – he catches himself just in time. (Waiting until her eyes are on him, until she can see that he  _knows._ )

When she finally does look at him, he lets himself smile. He stares into her eyes and it seems like she stopped breathing, her books long forgotten. He deliberately looks at her arm, slowly tracing it with his eyes – and he feels this bubble of absolute pleasure inside him when her terrified gaze catches his. ( _Filth.)_

And he can't help but imagine. Imagine the  **perfect** little Mudblood in a locked bathroom, her sleeve up her arm, tracing the lines with her finger, looking at the traces of her ultimate failure, breaking, shattering, cutting herself open, the razor leaving never healing scars, her  _filthy disgusting blood_ falling in drops on the floor. Imagine her salty tears rolling slowly down her cheeks, marking her face.

("The most brilliant witch of her age." He wants to spit it in her face because  _what kind of intelligent person does this to herself, hmm, Mudblood?_ )

He knows she knows he's aware of her little secret (her  **dirty little secret** ). She's shaking and god her fear is so exhilarating. He can taste it in the air, in her eyes and her pale face. In her fingers, clutching the books so hard to her chest, her knuckles are white, practically popping out of their sockets. (He feels drunk from her reaction. From her secret and what it entails.)

And Draco is still looking at him, seeking something he will never obtain, this confused look on his face. (Why is his father suddenly smiling at the Mudblood?)

She runs down the hallway and practically trips on her way out and  _how glorious would that have been?_

But Lucius only smirks, grips his cane ( _the little Mudblood is flawed, the little Mudblood is pathetic, the little Mudblood is filth filth filth, her disgusting blood flowing down her arms when nobody else is around)_ and turns around without sparing his son a second glance.

"Come along, Draco."


End file.
